Friday 24 February 2012

24th February 2011

The road from Alhaurin to the coast at Fuengirola is new.

It cuts down through a valley descending steeply before rising again to give a breath taking view of the Mediterranean.

It could be, and for some is, a fast road.

But it is subject to a 60 KPH speed restriction. There are hidden cameras and heavy fines are levied for exceeding the speed limit.

On any given day it is possible to see groups of cyclists kitted out as for the Tour de France, speeding up and racing down the hills, each cyclist jauntily arrived in bright yellow, red and blue with dark glasses and helmets effecting anonymity as they race the the other traffic which might consist of small, heavily laden motor cycles,  struggling their smokey way up the steep slopes and racing the cyclists down the descents.

Trucks and white vans compete for space and speed as they race down the declines in order to reach the next peak without changing gear.

Each of the main ascents has a crawler lane and on the descents there are gravel channels if you lose control or your brakes fail.

The fines are not always notified until you come to re-tax your vehicle by which time with compound interest they have become quite high.

I guess that it keeps taxes low and pays for the road.

As the two older stretches of the route out of Alhaurin and through the built up stretch through Mijas into Fuengirola are also 60 MPH there is a sense that the speed limit on the new road is arbitrarily designed simply to encourage risk taking and to generate income from fines.

It is rare to see an British number plate as generally cars are required to be registered in Spain as, after a fairly short time scale the are deemed to be imported.

Today however, as we drove out of Alhaurin, having enjoyed a Menu del Dia in a local restaurant, we were driving out toward the new road, first there was the usual hold up as two locals stopped for an exchange of views about the price of lemons or the improvement in the weather, it was then that I noticed the mini behind me, engine revving impatiently.

I set off and the speed limit went from 40 MPH to 50 MPH then to 30 MPH within an few hundred yards, aware that just ahead there was a speed bump of epic proportions which could if approached at speed cause a small car to fly, I slowed down and dropped into first gear edged cautiously over the traffic calming device and proceeded to increase speed.

At that moment the mini roared past me, cut in front of me, in my view dangerously, and sped off in a cloud of dust and gravel. It had a British number plate.

His nought to so far above the speed limit he couldn't be seen by a speed camera, made me think that it could have been driven by Mr Clarkson.

It was deliciously, outrageously, rude.

The car was travelling so fast that as he disappeared from view I had no idea of where he was heading but if it was the new road then he would have been in Fuengirola 15 Kilometres away before I had reached my destination a Kilometre ahead.

I had just taken the funeral of a gentlemen who in his younger days had rallied mini coopers in the UK, I found myself wondering was this a coincidence?

Or was something more mysterious at work?

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